Category: Life

See what I see.

EyesI haven’t been writing much lately. It’s been really hard not to. I have written a little bit on a half a dozen legal pads I have laying around, but it’s not the same as writing here. I have found myself expecting the worst, seeing everything in the worst possible light. I have a lot of incredible, cool, happy things going on in my life right now, both professionally and personally. Yet I am unable to write about them. There are privacy issues, and “it’s nobody’s business” issues and even a few things I’m not ready to write about yet. But I think the hardest part about not writing is just the solitude of the writing process—it’s just me and my words. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed me lately. But, I see myself in a totally different way now. I am going to wear a dress for the first time in more than 13 years. I may learn how to be comfortable without my mask. I believe that some day I will be able to take 6 months and just write and live and nothing else. I think I’m going to get back to the lake real soon—and stay there. I think I may actually get a little piece of happiness. But sometimes my self-doubt and over-analyzing mind takes over and all I see is the bad. I see me failing miserably. I see him leaving. I see my heart break into a million pieces. And then I shut my eyes, think about him kissing me and enjoy the butterflies in my stomach. Tomorrow may be the day that changes everything, I can see it.
Sig

I’m a fake.

I’ve been on the treadmill for 56 minutes running as hard as a could. I listened to every angry song on my iPod and cried. And cried. And cried. I’m sitting here dripping sweat, smelling like a dirty sock admitting I’m a fake. I’m not strong. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m tired of bullshit. I’ve been kidding myself. It will never matter who I am, how much money I make, what I drive, how successful I am. Nothing matters—ever. I’ve been chasing an unobtainable dream. What have I ever done in life to deserve to be happy? Right, nothing. All the money, all the awards, great jobs, great friends— they mean nothing when you have no one to share it with. I’m hitting the shower, maybe I can cry some more in there.
Sig

Perfectly alone.

“I don’t want to be alone, I want to be left alone.” -Audrey Hepburn

I have said this so many times, to so many people. My friends sometimes don’t understand my self-imposed solitude. They start to worry when they don’t hear from me. But my solitude is part of who I am. Although my job requires me to be very social at times, I am most comfortable when I am alone.  Maybe it is because I have been alone for so long I have gotten used to it just being me?

SolitudeTwenty years ago I couldn’t be alone. Probably because I was young and stupid and not happy yet with my own skin. But with age brings wisdom, and now I am OK with just being me. Being me is pretty awesome at times, and it is just getting better. When I quit competing with other people I realized that I was pretty cool without being compared to anybody else. And it stuck. Sure, sometimes I am over-confident, self-righteous and a tad pompous, but I am also paralyzed by self-doubt and my own worst critic at other times. It is a balancing act that I still haven’t mastered, but I’m working on it.

I would be lying if I said I like being alone all the time, because I don’t. But even though someone I care about is 108 miles away, I don’t feel alone—well, maybe a little bit. And when my friends aren’t around I don’t feel alone either. Sometimes just the idea of my crowd is enough to get me by—sometimes it’s not. Recently my body pillow isn’t quite cutting it at night. Maybe someday that will change and he will be here, and then again maybe he won’t. Or maybe I will be with him. Who know’s what the future holds, if it’s meant to be it will happen.

But, the perfect solitude would be just me and him. How many minutes til it starts?
Sig

 

This is real.

What is my real relationship? My real relationship is loving you unconditionally, and you me. My real relationship is you holding my hand. My real relationship is you sleeping with me every night—with a fan on. My real relationship is me cooking the foods you love every day. My real relationship is me taking care of you and you taking care of me. I want to do your laundry, pick up your messes and mow your yard. I want you to call me honey pie all the time. I want you to keep me looking at my bottom line. I want you to touch me every time you are close enough to do so. I want to say “we” and “us” all the time. I want you to dry my tears when I am sad. I want to rub your muscles when you hurt. I want to always be able to make you laugh. I want to be able to see you out my office window, working in the yard on some piece of equipment. I want to sit on the front porch with you and just rock away the troubles of the day. I want to be a team. I want Sunday dinners at either one of our parent’s house. I want to keep having butterflies in my stomach whenever I think about our first kiss last Monday morning. I want us to take lazy vacations that involve a body of water. I want to be the couple that everyone else wants to be. I want to be happy with you—only you.

I want you to chose me because you love me, because you believe in me and because we are better when we are together.

Love,
Sig

Irons in the fire.

IronsI am always busy—I mean really busy. But right now I am extra busy. For the first time in a very long time I am making my personal life a priority. I didn’t realize how hard it would be. It’s hard to walk away from my desk when I know there are unfinished projects. But I’m doing it, I’m walking away sometimes.

That’s not to say that my projects aren’t getting done, because they are. But there has been a lot of late night computing going on. Sacrificing my sleep is a small price to pay.

My friends have been commenting about a goofy grin on my face for no reason. I know the reason, he has a name. My friends know his name, but I haven’t filled them on the rest. He knows how to make me smile—a lot. My friends have seen me go thru my share of boys, but they have never seen me like this so they don’t even think my man has anything to do with it. I’m gonna let my friends speculate for a little while longer. They are all full of questions about anything and everything trying to figure out what is going on with me. And I am not giving anything up and giving vague answers to probing questions. It’s driving them all crazy, but I’m having fun with it.

Maybe this goes back to a previous post I wrote about how I never write about the happy things in my life out of fear that they may disappear. Well, now it changes. I’m writing about it and it’s not going to disappear.
Sig

Play ball.

BuschStadiumToday was an absolutely great day. First, I found out I’m going to get to see the boy on Monday. Second, my mom got an outstanding report from her oncologist. Everything is still shrinking, even tho her last dose of chemo was February 8, 2013. This is phenomenal! Third, thanks to my friends at Shawnee Communications, I am taking mom and dad to see the St. Louis Cardinals play the Cincinnati Reds at home at Busch Stadium. This is the second game of the opening series of the year. It ought to be a great night to be at the ballpark!

This morning I heard that this was the International Day of Happiness. I could not have planned a happier day if I had tried. The great news from my mom’s oncologist was not expected. Dr. Ziegler at Oncology and Hematology Associated in Evansville, Indiana is the greatest gift we could have asked for since we started this Cancer journey. She has always been upfront and honest with us—always telling us the good, the bad and the ugly. And I appreciate that. I always wanted to just know exactly what was going on and what we needed to be doing.

So be happy today! Hug those who you love. Celebrate life’s little victories. And have some fun.
Sig

Happily ever after.

forkintheroad

“Alice came to a fork in the road. ‘Which road do I take?’ she asked.
‘Where do you want to go?’ responded the Cheshire Cat.
‘I don’t know,’ Alice answered.
‘Then,’ said the Cat, ‘it doesn’t matter.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

As you can guess, I have come to a fork in my road. I’ve been coasting down the highway of life for quite a few years now. And then I decided I wanted more—more of what, I’m not sure of. But, I decided to go back to school and finish what I had started and have the piece of paper that backs up my knowledge. And then an old boyfriend called. And then two job offers fell in my lap. And then a boy I have been casually dating decides he wants more. And then I think I want a new Jeep. And then one of my best friends gets really sick, and we aren’t speaking right now because her boyfriend is an ass. And then I really think I want to move back to Carmi and build a pole barn house and get my pilot’s license. And then I think I want to buy some huge piece of equipment, just so I can hear it run, smell the diesel and dig a huge hole. And then I think I want to take a job very far away from here (which is just my idea of running from making a decision I don’t want to make).

And then my dreams take me where I don’t want to go. They take me to happily ever after. They take me to unconditional love and trust. They take me to everything I have been running from for years. I have been dreaming about being Donna Reid for God’s sake, and that is definitely not me. I didn’t work in my pajamas today—I took them out and burned them. What? Why am I forgetting who the heck I am?

Maybe I need some therapy. Maybe I need a vacation. Maybe I need laid. Maybe I need a little of all of the above. How can I to figure out what I want? I think I know what I want, but that is the one thing that isn’t an option. And why do I feel so weak? I haven’t been weak in 10 years. I didn’t like that person.

What is happiness? Who the hell knows.
Sig

Girls like me.

Had a very interesting conversation with a very close friend of mine today about single girls my age. And this is what I told him.

Every single girl my age has:

  1. A perfect black dress that she can put on and look like a million bucks.
  2. Enough money in the bank to be able to pick up and move at a moment’s notice.
  3. One male friend they can call, no matter what time of day or night, and get laid and one male friend they can call who can fix or lift anything.
  4. Enough self esteem to know when to say no and when to say yes.
  5. One girl friend to call who will always tell them the truth, even when that’s not what they want to hear.
  6. A brain that we’re not afraid to use.
  7. Someone she can call who always has bail money.
  8. Enough experience to know who is for real and who is not.
  9. A past. She may not be proud of it, it may be awful, or it may be great, but it’s theirs, and to some extent it influences every move they make now.
  10. Still has a dream. We don’t want to be taken care of, but we still believe in happy endings. We all still think there is the perfect someone out there for us and some day we will find him (or he will find us). We definitely don’t have the same attitudes about relationships that our mother’s do. I still love to cook for someone I care about. And I can still be domestic and not lose who I really am. Some feel stronger about this than others.
    Sig

 

The past.

“Can love really travel back in time and heal a broken heart? Was it our joined hands that finally lifted Maria’s curse? I’d like to think so. But there are some things I know for certain: always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder, keep rosemary by your garden gate, plant lavender for luck, and fall in love whenever you can.” -Sandra Bullock in Practical Magic.

I have been thinking about the past too much lately. I have also been thinking way too much about the future. I have caught myself thinking about a future that involves someone else. This is a scary thing. I had convinced myself years ago that I would be alone. I’m not saying that I don’t date. I’m saying that I will never get married again, live with someone or have a “normal” relationship. It’s not that I am not lovable (I’m actually pretty awesome). It’s just that many, many years ago there was this boy that broke my heart. I have thought about him every single day since then. I have compared every other boy I have been with to him. I never thought I would ever see him again, but there was always that little voice inside that kept telling me that sooner or later I had to run into him somewhere. I have caught myself so many times wanting to type his name into Facebook or google, but didn’t—I was afraid I would find him (which of course, i would have). And then, he found me.

In a way, I have been preparing for this moment for years—getting all my ducks in a row so my life is at place that I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. He says I’m not settled, I think I am the complete opposite. I’m settled into my career. I’m settled into where I live. I was settled into being alone. And now, I would throw as much of my stuff as I could get in my Jeep and take off with him and never look back. Whatever wouldn’t fit, I would buy when I got there. That is really hard for me to admit. It is really hard because I’m not that person who does things nonsensically. I always have a plan, a plan B and a plan C. This is nuts for me.

So, what do I do? Maybe I will get in my Jeep and go the opposite direction. My kids are grown, my folks are great, nobody really needs me to stay around here—maybe I’ll just head south and stop whenever I see water. My laptop and me can work anywhere. Maybe I will just test out that theory.

I guess I should tie in the quote from above. “Fall in love whenever you can” is stupid and never ends well. True story.
Sig

Everything is just crazy.

And just like that, everything I thought about myself, everything I have learned, everything I have worked for….it all doesn’t matter. I thought I had learned how to make decisions devoid of emotion. I had gotten really good at it. I have had lots of practice. I can’t use grammar properly. I can’t speak and I can’t talk. I have forgotten all the pain, all the tears and all the lonely nights. And all it took was one phone call. I have talked on my phone more in the last 10 days than I have in the last 6 months. And I’m smiling—a lot. Where am I? What has happened to the strong, independent, successful woman? I am scared to death. This emotional thing is so new to me, I had almost forgot I had them. I have caught myself babbling about absolutely nothing that means anything. And then I’m scared to speak. I swear I’m not sappy, but I have been posting some pretty sappy posts on Facebook. What? How do you explain something that has started, something you have prayed for, something you have wished for everyday for more than 15 years? How do I keep from f@%$ing everything up?
Sig